The honest answer from someone who loves living abroad but would not recommend it to everyone

Let’s start with the fantasy version.

You sell everything. You board the plane. You land somewhere warmer, cheaper, slower, and more beautiful than the life you left behind. Your rent drops. Your stress drops. Your blood pressure drops. You learn to drink coffee in plazas. You discover fruit you can’t pronounce. You become, in your own mind at least, a more interesting person.

That version exists.

I know...

There is a woman I know who spent the first thirty-five years of her life inside the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She served in auxiliaries, raised her son in the faith, kept a year's supply of food storage in her basement, and did all the things faithful members do. Then, after a long and painful faith transition, she left.

She will tell you it was the hardest thing she ever did.

She will also tell you, if you catch her in a reflective mood, that she may have made life a little...

There's an old story; Uncle Remus, Br'er Rabbit, and a lump of tar shaped like a baby, that contains one of the most underrated pieces of wisdom ever wrapped in Southern folklore. Br'er Fox sets a tar baby in the road. Br'er Rabbit, being social and a little too proud, says hello. The tar baby doesn't answer. Rabbit takes offense and swings. Fist sticks. Swings again. Other fist sticks. Kicks. Foot sticks. And there he is, completely immobilized by something that never even talked back.